


Dead-End

by Coffin Liqueur (HP_Lovecats)



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure
Genre: Character Study, Hating Your Coworkers, Pre-Eighth Child Arc, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HP_Lovecats/pseuds/Coffin%20Liqueur
Summary: It's at times like these that Tailmon sinks into forgetting why she's even here.
Kudos: 5





	Dead-End

Curiously, it is at times like these that Tailmon sinks into forgetting why she is even here. She's come to take a hard-edged, hard-won, hard-honed pride in her rank, strength, stealth, speed, competency as a soldier.

There is absolutely no pride to take in her dealings with the underlings. They fear her, but it's fear without respect.

While she isn't a patrolmon, she patrols the halls of the castle in her off-hours anyway, especially when Wizarmon is otherwise occupied, searching for something. Some validation.

She sees a pair of Gazimon who were meant to be watching over the ramparts; one is asleep, and the other is licking the wrapper of some long-sinced consumed piece of food - judging by the staleness of the smell. Her eyes go steely before she reveals herself, as she has trained them to do; she smiles, condescendingly, as she steps out of the shadows and calls, "Gentlemen?"

The rabbits jump and yelp, the bubble of mucous that'd swollen out of the napper's nose with a snore popping. They salute and sputter off frantic excuses and lies without apologizing. As they turn to look off the castle wall, she nods and says that she'll leave them to it with a for now that's pointed in spirit - not in delivery. She walks onward knowing that however long she takes, as soon as they have any reason to be confident she's gone, they'll be _checked right out_ again.

A Bakemon drifts by her in the hall; he asks her what she's doing, and there's a sensation in her mind that burns like a sting, taking it as insinuation that she shouldn't be there. She cannot keep the steel out of her eyes this time, but she smirks all the same, as some balance. States that she is simply taking an evening walk - then, with a flick of her ear and a cock of her head, asks him what he's doing.

The ghost blinks with an "oh?" and pulls back, the wide hang of its open mouth looking especially dumb, his sheeted hands pulled back and up.

Shutting her eyes and turning up her nose, she mews that she supposes she has no reason to pry, as long as he's not shirking duties.

_Carry on._

As she prowls onward, she makes a point to flick the tuft of her tail into the ghost's face. She hears a sneeze behind her that makes her nose twitch and her ears batter and her fur stand on end.

She sees PicoDevimon before a great wooden door, speaking to a pair of Gizamon. He throws his head back and laughs, mouth full of triangular teeth, and they follow suit. The front of her head burns.

She has no smile for him as she strides to him, eyes narrow and nostrils flared. The Gizamon jump like the rabbits had jumped, while PicoDevimon simply pivots to face her with one step half-forward of a clawed foot, no longer grinning and yet not surprised. He is supposed to be out on a search flight - she reminds him this. He _geez_ -es at her and spreads his wings, all _so there_ -like, and jaws and jaws that he ought to be _entitled to a little break_ , and that the forest is dead tonight anyhow, and _why can't your buddy Wizarmon do it anyway?_ _It's not like only one guy in this force can fly..._

She gathers herself to muster up her grin again, so as she can deliver, with the barb she has found most efficient, if he would like her to pass on his status report, with his logic, to Vamdemon.

It's slow-going, that burn and PicoDevimon's chatter disrupting her thought process.

Vamdemon should have destroyed him ages ago, she thinks, with the burn flaring up in spite. He had put up with far less from her.

And briefly, she is able to subconsciously acknowledge that she, perhaps, makes these rounds to forget.

To remember to _ask_ herself if she's suffered so much for no compensation but to now suffer _fools_ , too.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the r/FanFiction April Daily Prompt challenge. April 6th: "When The Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play. The Problem Is, The Cat Always Comes Back."


End file.
